


(A Few Inches Too Far) Underneath The Mistletoe

by whatthefoucault



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Christmas, M/M, Mild Language, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/pseuds/whatthefoucault
Summary: It was purely by chance that Steve happened upon a scruffy little sprig of discarded mistletoe on their way back from dinner with the Barnes family.





	(A Few Inches Too Far) Underneath The Mistletoe

It was purely by chance that Steve happened upon a scruffy little sprig of discarded mistletoe on their way back from dinner with the Barnes family; indeed, on any other night he would doubtless have passed it with a cynical huff and given it no further thought, but it was Christmas, after all.

And that was how Steve found himself perched precariously on tippy-toes on the edge of what, it turned out, was the wobbliest kitchen chair they owned, still a good two inches shy of being able to affix the mistletoe to the ceiling.

"What the hell you think you're doing?" Bucky was in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. "There's no way in hell that chair's stable enough for a grown man to stand on. You think I wanna spend Christmas taking you to the hospital with a broken leg, huh?"

"It's tradition, and I’ve got this," protested Steve. If only he could get a lit-tle closer -

But the chair had other ideas, rocking dangerously to one side, before it was all but out from under him - and there was Bucky, arms tight around Steve as the chair clattered to the floor.

"I should have just let you fall," said Bucky, shaking his head. "Ya big goof. Why didn't you just ask me to hang this stupid thing?"

"Forget it," shrugged Steve, shaking himself free of Bucky's concern. He was not sure what he had expected. A kiss? Bucky would probably rather kiss a dead frog, he reminded himself. He admonished himself for even letting himself imagine what it would be like to share a kiss, a proper kiss, with his best friend. 

"Look, if you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask." Bucky reached up and held the mistletoe as high as he could between them, applying a soft kiss to Steve's cheek. Steve relished the warmth his lips left there. He wondered if Bucky could tell that he was blushing.

\---

That little shit Steve Rogers was going to be the death of him, thought Bucky. There he went again, nearly breaking his neck trying to hang a dumb piece of mistletoe.

And for what? A kiss? It was not as though Steve could have known how much Bucky would have loved to share more than a chaste cheek-kiss, to feel the tickle of his day-old scruff as their lips met again and again, to whisper a kiss to every little freckle, to find all the places he loved to be kissed the most. But he was a damn idiot for letting himself dream of it.

"Is it too late to change my Christmas wish list?" asked Steve.

"Yep," confirmed Bucky, hanging the mistletoe by its little red ribbon on their bare little Christmas tree. "But if you could, what would you ask for?"

"A sturdier set of kitchen chairs," said Steve.

"You fuckin’ punk." Bucky laughed in spite of himself. He loved that goofball.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com), but I thought I'd share it here too. Happy holidays, everyone!


End file.
